


Catalyst

by QuillMind



Series: The Devilman You Love [15]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bukkake, Childhood Friends, Creampie, Demon Sex, Demonic Possession, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, High School, Jealousy, Marathon Sex, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Requited Love, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: As Akira's childhood friend, you used to know everything about him, but ever since his strange overnight 'growth spurt,' he's become distant and strange towards you.  Tired of being left in the dark, you decide to confront him, and you get your answer in a rather... explosive way.





	Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I've got a habit going now where I keep finding Devilman fics that I hadn't yet uploaded to AO3. 😑
> 
> Anyway, ready your smocks, 'cause we're headed to the splash zone!

There was a slight stomping aspect to your gait like the ground had wronged you and it needed to be punished.  But the pavement wasn’t what had you aggravated--it was your childhood friend, Akira. 

More or less, anyway.  Ever since his odd and unexplained overnight growth spurt, that timid and gentle boy you knew and loved had become a different person.  He was now confident to the point of arrogant, aggressive, decisive and prone to anger. He was taller than you, and his body was bigger, muscular and athletic.  Those round and bright puppy dog eyes were gone, and in their place were the sharp, black-lined ones of a predator. Even his hair was different, going from a fine and soft brown to a striking black mane that looked almost dangerous to touch.  

All the girls at school were infatuated, squealing hellos whenever they saw him.  Some brought homemade lunches for him to eat while others straight up asked if they could be his girlfriend.  Akira was overall indifferent to their affections (though he did accept any and every bit of food they offered him), occasionally making flippant remarks which only made the girls squealier, and refusing their pleas to walk home together, saying that you and Miki were the only ones he did that with.  

As much as you hated to admit it, you were thrilled when he’d said that.  But you were still irritated by how much of a mystery Akira had become, and what this change did to you.  

You loved Akira--that much was clear.  In the ‘best friends’ and ‘close like family’ way, at least.  But this magic makeover that had turned him into a super hot delinquent bad boy?  It threw a giant wrench into the cogs of your brain, disrupting everything. Something weird and scary was wriggling within yourself, and you didn’t know how to deal with it.  

He’d become quite lax when it came to attendance, often being late to class without a care if he even showed up at all.  And worst of all was how he started to avoid talking to you. Other than usual small talk and stuff relating to class, he was curt and reluctant, and looking at you was apparently uncomfortable for him.  

Were you suddenly that repulsive to him?  Did becoming the most wanted guy in school suddenly make him too good to be seen with you?  Or did he just want to be alone with Miki, and you were the third wheel? The less attention he paid you, the more he seemed to pay to her.  

But then why did he vehemently oppose the idea of you modeling with Miki when she’d brought it up the other day?  Why did he interrupt you when Okamura-kun from class C started chatting with you about going somewhere together this long weekend?  You remembered clearly how annoyed Akira had looked, glaring wordlessly at Okamura while standing between you two until the poor boy had stammered a goodbye to you and scurried away down the hall.  As soon as he was gone, Akira left also, ignoring your questions about what the hell he’d just done. 

That had been two days ago.  He hadn’t come to school since, even skipping out on track and field.  Miki herself said she had no explanation for Akira’s behaviour, though you suspected that she wasn’t telling you everything.

Miki and the Makimuras had gone out of town for the weekend to a hot springs resort.  Akira had apparently said he was not interested in going, so he was home alone. 

You had had enough.  You were going to confront Akira today and clear the air about what his problem was--even if the truth hurt.  

You were practically considered family by the Makimuras.  They had given you a spare key to drop by their house when you wished, or to sometimes look after Taro and Tako.  

No one answered when you opened the door, but Akira’s shoes were still there.  

A distant noise entered your ears.  It was like someone was… in pain? Was Akira hurt?  

Worry propelled you upstairs.

****

Akira was never the creative type.  He was one of those who struggled to render a stick-man, who might try to draw a bird and have it end up resembling a toaster instead.  But if one were somehow able to see the hundreds of vivid images his brain was firing off, it would have been easy for them to presume he was some kind of artist.  

A sex-obsessed artist high on DMT and MDMA that used semen for paint, anyway.

He could deal with the urges to fight and to eat.  Granted, he had to study all the locations of all you can eat restaurants in the city to get his value for money, but he balanced the energy drain that hunting demons caused without much trouble.  

But the third urge was much harder to deal with--literally.

Whether he was asleep or awake, Akira saw you in his mind, shifting through infinite variations of erotic scenarios like a libidinous kaleidoscope.  Your bare shoulders, the skin of your thighs, lips parted and panting. Hair thrashing about, sweat streaming over luscious contours. His name being the only actual word you could say.  Knuckles clenched around sheets, wetness running down your legs, your chin, your cheeks. Marks on your neck and thighs, nipples red and aching from being bitten and sucked on. Sticky white fluid splattered on your swaying breasts just as he was about to release more--

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.  He hissed air through his teeth as he jerked himself off, hips thrusting into his hand like pistons.  A bath towel was within his reach on the bed to take care of the mess, but it was rapidly losing its usefulness after having already collected his release from the previous two times this morning.  Which might have not sounded like a big deal if it weren’t for the fact that as a devilman Akira came enough each time to fill a pint glass. 

At least he didn’t have to sneak around to do laundry this weekend with Miki and her family gone.  

Akira didn’t know what he was going to do.  The gentle affection he’d always harboured for you, so ingrained in his life that he never gave it much thought, had burgeoned into a steroid-enhanced version of itself.  It had opened his eyes to see he didn’t treasure you as just a friend, and what he felt for you was not the same as he felt for Miki. He wanted you and no one else--but you wouldn’t want him.  Why would you? You were wonderful, and he was… 

A memory from a month ago flickered in his mind when you had gotten caught together in a rainstorm, and you came back to his house with your soaked shirt transparent and clinging to your shivering skin.  

Furious lust rushed through his veins, and Akira cursed as his wings burst from his back.  The black limbs stretched up to the ceiling and clawed the air like they wanted to rip away from his body.  

Yeah.  He was not for you.  

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to accept you being with someone else.  Seeing that shithead Okamura trying to get you to go out with him had made Akira want to slam his head into the floor.  The mere possibility of you being touched by not him sent him into a bull-like rage--complete with the need to gore any unfortunate guys that happened to be in his sights.  

The more he tried to suppress his desire, the more unruly it became.  He dreaded that if this continued for much longer, he might snap and go fuck the first person he could find off the street like he’d done with Silene.  Or, worse yet, he’d come after you. 

He wanted to smother your body with his, wanted to mark you, invade you, ruin you completely.  

No, he wanted to hold you and be held back, to feel you sigh against his neck and fall asleep next to him.  He wanted to talk with you for hours and develop inside jokes together. He wanted to hear you say that you wanted him.

Who was he kidding, he wanted both.  But the former crushed any chances of the latter, and the lack of the latter made the former burn out of frustration.

He was breathing harder now as his nerves sparked.  In his imagination, you called his name and it sounded far more vivid than before.  God, he had it bad. 

And he was close.  He gripped the sheets and tensed as he pumped himself, groaning long and loud.  The bed rattled. The door opened. 

Akira’s eyes snapped open.   _ The door-- _

“Akira, didn’t you hear--”

You stepped into his room, and he had a split second to see the indignant expression on your face before it turned to shock.  

He bolted up and blurted out the first half of your name before it was cut off by a shout.  

Then he came.  

****

The wings were what you saw first.  Black, tipped with sharp talons, and moving of their own accord.  Then, the naked form of your childhood friend, every bit as tightly muscled as you imagined.  In one blurry hand was his cock, and apparently when you’d occasionally spotted it through his tracksuit at school it had been soft, because at this moment it was practically a forearm.  

If what happened next was a video shown to you online, you would’ve immediately dismissed it as fake.  Some CG wizardry or practical effect with the help of an off-camera crew member squeezing a bag of watered-down icing.  

But this was real.  You were watching with your own two eyes as that long, thick shaft spurted out jetstreams of come, splattering the floor, the walls, and you.  And though you had plenty of time to step aside and dodge the spray, all you could do was stand and watch as Akira groaned through the rest of his climax until the last sticky rope landed on your jeans.  

A brief eternity passed.  The only noise was yours and Akira’s shaky breathing.  

He was the one who tried first, stammering your name, but he didn’t get much further than that.  

It was enough for you, though.  Blinking a few times, you swallowed and pulled your voice back together.  

“I… I called, but no one answered.  I should have knocked, but I heard your voice, so… You have wings.”  

“I… These are…”

“They’re real, aren’t they?”  

Akira stared at you, no doubt wondering why you were asking about his wings instead of unwittingly being turned into a lurid performance art piece.  But having one specific thing to focus on helped him to speak. “Yeah,” he finally managed, peeling his hand away from his cock and wiping it on the sheets.

You took a slow step forward.  More of your body returned to your consciousness, and you took stock of where you’d been sprayed.  Your clothes were ruined, yes, but most of your skin was untouched besides a few splotches on your arms and neck.  

“This is related to your change.”  It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah.  I…” Akira hesitated for a moment, then figured he no longer had anything left to lose.  “I was merged with a demon. Not possessed. I still have control. I’m a devilman.” 

“Devilman.”  Your enunciation was measured and calm.  

Silence again.  

Then, you carefully lifted your shirt over your head, using it to wipe your body dry before letting it fall to the floor.  

Akira’s eyebrows skyrocketed.  

“When I came in, I heard you from downstairs,” you said, adrenaline streaming into your blood.  “You said my name.” 

Akira cleared his throat and looked away.  

“Akira?”  

Were you seriously about to do this?  You almost felt like a stranger in your own body.  But you did hear him say your name--more than once.  

“I did,” he said at last, sounding far more assured.  

You undid your jeans and slid them down your legs, knowing full well that Akira’s eyes were fixated on the generous view of your bra-clad chest as you bent over.  When you straightened up again that same gaze returned to your face. He looked starved and eager, like an animal waiting to hunt. 

“What were you thinking about just before you came?”  

Akira’s legs slid over the side of the mattress.  His arms bunched with strength, and his cock was rock-hard again.  

“You.”  As soft and gentle as your voice was, his was rigid and heated.  

“Wh--” you fought to control the quiver that crept into your words.  “What was happening to me?” 

Black wings flexed as Akira sprung to his feet.  He stood before you, unashamed of his nakedness and obvious arousal.  A second later, the air stirred by his wings entered your nose, and you realized with a first time just how packed this room was with the scent of male musk.  

Akira’s jaw set.  “You don’t want to know,” he said lowly.  

“I do.  Tell me.”  

A growl was emitted from Akira’s throat, deep and rumbling like a motorcycle engine.  His skin was flushed and sweaty, and his lips curled back to show a glimpse of brilliant, white canines.  Two fists trembled at his sides, and between them was that throbbing length, so heavy it should have hung down by his legs yet pointed straight up at you like a homing missile.

“Keep this up and I won’t be able to stop.  You understand? You won’t be going home tonight--or walking, for that matter.  It’s taking everything I’ve got to keep from jumping you right now.”

You could see he was battling a war within himself, and steadily losing.  But the fact that he was fighting at all told you he cared. 

“I didn’t take my clothes off because I wanted you to stop, Akira.”

That was certainly a much bolder line than you ever expected you’d say.  Judging by Akira’s facial expression, he didn’t expect it either. You could see hope wanting to take root in him.

“You’re not scared of me?”  It was in this sudden, vulnerable question that you saw and heard a bit of the old Akira.   

“No.  You said so yourself.  You’re not a devil, you’re a devilman.”  You raised your hand to caress his cheek.  He stiffened reflexively, but the muscles in his face relaxed like he was soothed by your touch.  

Then you hugged him, and a tether holding his self-control together snapped.  

He threw you onto his bed, and before you even stopped bouncing he swept the dirty towel off the mattress and landed on top of you for a full-on assault with his mouth.  

You had trouble breathing, in part due to Akira flinging you across the room, but also from the sheer intensity of his lust for you.  It was as though there was only this moment, and then never again would he get to do this. You decided to treat it the same way and savoured the soft feel of his lips, his husky voice filling your mouth, his tongue tasting yours.

Despite your faint whine at Akira breaking off the kiss, he drew back and seized your bra, ripping it off of you like it was made of paper.  Palming your bare breasts like long-coveted treasures (not far off from the truth) he squeezed and molded them as he liked, occasionally letting go to watch them delicately jiggle, then pushing them together and dipping his face into the plush valley.  Your nipples became painfully hard from his fingers pinching them, and when he came up from your cleavage to suck on the hard tips you arched your back and moaned out loud. 

Your panties met the same fate as your bra, and Akira shuddered at the feel of your drenched pussy.  He strummed along your pink folds and stared with amazement at his coated fingers before sucking them clean.  The taste made him groan like a starved man who’d just tasted a gourmet meal. 

“I can’t wait,” he raggedly said.  Sitting up on his haunches, he lifted your hips up onto his lap.  “It’s already been way too long, I can’t wait any longer.” 

“Then don’t,” you said, a reassurance that came out sounding more like a plea.  “I want you to do it, Akira, I want you to fuck me, please.” 

There was that vulnerable, childlike look on Akira’s face again, then it was replaced by something savage and dark.  He rammed himself in all the way to the hilt, his roar drowning out your own high-pitched shriek. Without waiting, he started thrusting like his life depended on it.

“It’s good… You, you feel so good, Akiraaa…”  

Akira growled.  Hearing you cry his name so sweetly shot sparks through his nerves and melted his heart.  It also made his cock somehow harder than it already was, demanding that he move faster and harder.  Thankfully, you didn’t complain. Quite the opposite, in fact. Akira felt more wetness sloshing between your bodies and an even stronger grip from your pussy, the silky muscles rippling around to milk him dry.  

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, his words wobbly from his frantic tempo.  “You’re better than I ever could’ve imagined.” 

Nothing could have prepared you for this.  Not that you were very experienced in this regard--only a few makeout sessions leading to heavy petting and dry humping, and your first time with a pushy boyfriend who managed to get a handful of thrusts in before coming and ending the night awkwardly.  Akira wasn’t excelling in technique, but his power and enthusiasm made that irrelevant. His girth and length were initially the cause of some pain, only to be eroded and replaced by a pleasure so great it was driving you mad. 

“I can’t let him see this.”  

It sounded like a thought Akira had unintentionally said out loud.  You blinked and tried to focus, but with his black wings hovering above his face was far too shadowed to make out clearly.  “What?” 

“Okamura,” Akira snarled venomously.  “And that sleazy photographer. They don’t get to see you like this.”  With each word his features became twisted, his voice harsh. Fire lit his eyes anew, and he sank his hands deep into your thighs.  “This is for me--only me!”

The sting of tears was behind your nose.  “Yes,” you nodded, reaching out to cover his hands with yours.  “No one else, Akira. I’m yours!”

It was lucky that you were alone in the house; no one could mistake the noises the two of you were making for anything but wild, animalistic sex.  Not that it made a difference to Akira; his entire class could be present, and he would still not stop fucking you. 

“A-Akira,” you whimpered in staccato, worry and panic lining your face.  “I’m gonna come, oh god, I, I can’t, I’m gonna come, please!”

“Fuck!”  

Hauling your legs onto his shoulders, Akira fell forward and slammed into your hips, going as deep as possible.  The entire bed rocked so violently it was as if there was an earthquake. 

Through the rattling furniture and thunderclaps of skin, Akira heard you wail for him as you came.  Your walls wrenched tightly around his cock, and he yelled your name at a deafening volume while coming harder than he ever had before.  Out of instinct, you reached around his neck to pull him down, and he immediately pushed your legs off his shoulders to hug you, still pumping more of his release inside.  

Grunts and moans eventually diminished to heavy pants, then tired breathing.  Akira’s body sagged to rest more of its weight on you, but he didn’t feel heavy.  Weakened, sweaty, and messy as you were, you had never felt more sated. 

Perhaps sensing you were overheated, Akira beat his wings gently to fan cool air around you.  You slurred a grateful noise and kissed his neck. 

“That was a heck of a fantasy you were having,” you mumbled after a while.  

“Yeah,” Akira said. 

Shifting your hips, you tried to get up, only for a pair of hands to push you back down.  Your breath caught in your throat as you felt Akira’s cock twitch inside. 

He was still rock hard.  

Akira turned his head to face you and flashed a crooked grin that could only be described as devilish.  

“You didn’t seriously think that was it, did you?” he asked.  “That didn’t even cover half the stuff I fantasized about doing to you.”  

He rolled his hips to grind the base of his cock against your clit, making you whine and quiver.  

“I told you, you’re not going home or walking by the time I’m done.”  

Of course, Akira knew that eventually you would have to leave.  The Makimuras would be home in a couple of days, and now that he knew your true feelings, he had no reason to avoid you or ditch classes.  But in the figurative sense, he was never going to be without you again. And he would do everything in his power to make that a literal truth in the future.  

For now, though, he would take advantage of the two days he had alone with you to their absolute fullest.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](https://quillmind.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/QuillMind)


End file.
